Chapter 3: The Happy Hour

Danielle finally makes her first moves on Blake, unaware of the type of person he is.

There is a man who oversees and manages the staff on Blake's floor, but he is actually not his boss. His real boss, Mr. Oxford, lives in a suburb about five miles outside of New Orleans. And funny enough, he happens to live within walking distance of one of Blake's own clients - the same one he briefly spoke to over the phone earlier today.

By the time Blake arrives at the proper address, both the curb and driveway are packed with the cars of other, faster coworkers. This forces him to park in front of a complete stranger's house - something that he's anything but proud of. He takes the stroll up to the front door and ponders to himself some more.

Alright, Blake. Just play it cool and try not to think about what happened earlier today. Relax and maybe have a drink or two, he repeatedly tells himself.

After politely knocking on the front door, Blake is promptly greeted by Mr. Oxford himself. He's a short, bespectacled man with a pot-belly and a hairline that seems to recede more and more each day.

"Ah, Mr. Frost. So glad you could make it," he greets.

"Same here, boss," Blake replies politely.

Following a brief conversation, Blake makes his way into the connected kitchen and living room, which are already crowded with guests both familiar and unfamiliar. Turns out that the food for the party comes from a catering company, and several of the workers are busying themselves preparing and serving the food to the guests.

"Yo, Blake!" a young male voice calls out.

Blake quickly spots a few of his friends occupying one of the living room couches, each of them holding a different, partially-consumed alcoholic beverage. The one on the end taps the open seat next to him, prompting Blake to quicken his pace as he approaches them. Almost immediately after he sits down, the conversation quickly picks up, but it's quickly brought to a halt again as soon as a female server approaches the group.

"Hey guys, can I get you all anything?" she asks.

Blake orders a rum-laced coke while his friends order refills on their existing drinks. The server puts on a courteous grin before sauntering off. A few of the guys smirk as they watch her walk away, but Blake is obviously not among them.

"Aw man," one guy says. "I'm willing to bet that chick's going commando tonight!"

"Bruh, I'm willing to bet she's wearing a full set under that uniform," another guy chimes in.

"You mean like with the stockings and the garter belt?" a third guy asks. "God, I hope so."

"Hey get in line, dudes. If she wants any of us, it's me!" a fourth guy says.

"Like she'd ever want some of your microscopic dick. She clearly wants a bit of that Blake action," the first guy replies, slapping a hand onto Blake's shoulder.

Blake does nothing more than roll his eyes, not even the least bit amused at how the guys tried to get him involved in their discussion. He can't help it; he just sees no fun or value in objectifying women. He instead chooses to tune out the nonsense spewing from his drunken friends' mouths, focusing on scanning the room around him and occasionally sipping his drink or snacking on his plate of h'ors d'oeuvres.

"Ah, Ms. McGuire! So nice of you to show up!" Mr. Oxford's voice rings forth, startling Blake.

He looks up and sees her entering the house, shaking his boss' hand before starting to look around. Before he knows it, Blake is panicking on the inside. He orders refill after refill of the beverage he ordered, shooting each one down faster and faster, until he finally has enough. He stands up, swaying drunkenly as he decides to walk around aimlessly, fearing that any more alcohol in his system will make him sick, or worse kill him.

Blake doesn't know how much time has passed, but the next thing he knows, he's standing face to face with Danielle, and she looks to be almost as inebriated as he is. The room they're standing in is a tad less crowded than elsewhere in the house.

"Hey there, uh, Blake was it?" Danielle asks in a heavily slurred voice.

"Uh, yeah," Blake replies awkwardly.

A few more seconds of silence follow.

"Woo man, am I drunk!" Danielle says out of the blue. "But anyway, I thought I'd thank you for showing me around the workplace this morning. God knows I needed that tour."

"Er... no problem," Blake replies.

"So, uh, how 'bout I return the favor?" Danielle suggests.

"Huh?" Blake c***s an eyebrow.

With a sultry smirk, Danielle drags Blake into the den right by the staircase, which functions as a guest bedroom. Blake immediately knows what she's hinting at, but he's too drunk to fight back. He swears he hears some of his friends calling after him, saying things like, "Yeah! Go Blake!" or "Good luck!" or "Don't forget the protection!"

Before long, Danielle is already shutting the door and coaxing Blake into making out with her, roaming her hands all over his body. Blake is almost positive that the alcohol on her breath is adding to his own intoxication, which explains why he feels partially helpless. She then places her hands on his shoulders and falls backwards onto the bed, taking him down with her.

In his drunken haste, Blake hurriedly undoes the buttons on Danielle's cerulean blouse, revealing her large breasts, covered in nothing but a bra of the same color. Normally he wouldn't think much of such a sight, but at the moment, he's utterly mesmerized. Following an effeminate giggle, Danielle forces their lips together again, but this time Blake cuts things off, as if he's just had an epiphany.

"What's wrong?" she asks.

"I-I can't do this!" Blake panics, immediately bolting from the room.

"Blake? Blake! Where are you going?!" Danielle calls after him.

With the alcohol having worn off, Blake is snapped back into reality, and immediately feels guilty for what he's done, or rather almost done. Ignoring the questions from his colleagues, he hurries outside and back to his car. He drives away without a word, plagued with the guilt stemming from his actions, and swearing off alcohol from now on.